


No Strings Attached

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Solavellan, solavellan hell, tsundere solas, tsundere?, what's the term?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: Lavellan teaches Solas how to tie shoelaces.





	No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> So basically thecopperkidd made this comic: http://thecopperkidd.tumblr.com/post/163065062829/
> 
> and that was the entire inspiration for this fanfic.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: http://typhonserpent.tumblr.com/

Little puffs of fog formed in the air in front of Solas' mouth. He watched them swirl off the pages of the book in his hand and took the moment of distraction as a chance to shuffle his boots, scratching at the side of his foot with the corner of the wall he was leaning against.  
  
Cassandra stopped as she walked down the steps and nodded towards his feet, "Your shoes are untied."  
  
He stared at the Seeker from behind the book, his expression blank. After a second of pause, he replied with a curt, "Thank you." and turned back to the book in his hand.  
  
Shrugging, Cassandra continued down the path, her boots a hard crunch against the frozen ground.  
  
Solas turned the page and continued his reading.  
  
It wasn't long before he was interrupted again. The sound of bare feet softly padding against snow. She wasn't very good at sneaking ... or maybe she wasn't trying.  
"The chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all."  
  
"Am I riding in on a shining steed?" She said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. The sun was decending behind the mountains surrounding Haven, framing the Dalish elf in rays of light. He glanced at her sideways, nose still turned to the book. "I would have suggested a griffin, but sadly, they are extinct."  
  
A little snort of laughter escaped through her nose, and she covered her mouth to shield it. Sighing, Solas closed the book and turned to face her. "Joke as you will. Posturing is necessary."  
  
Setting the book aside, he leaned against one of the cobblestone pillars that flanked the stairs next to the training grounds. From where he stood, he could see a freshly-recruited Templar soldier, barely old enough to grow a layer of fuzz on his chin, pick up a mace and charge at the oversized shield of his sparring partner. The older Templar barely budged with the blow, and remained perfectly stoic as his young friend took another swing.

He heard her feet padding up again. She was beside him, watching the same match.

"I've journied deep into the fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten."

Her hands were folded behind her back, her eyes bright and inquisitive. "Every great war has its heroes," He continued, turning back towards her, "I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

"What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?" She asked, tilting her head to one side. Solas was briefly reminded of a curious cat.  
  
"Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is seeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."  
  
"I've never heard of anyone going so far into the fade! That's extraordinary!"  
  
Solas blinked once. He could hear a loud shout and the sound of metal clanging against metal. "Thank you." He said. Glancing back to the training grounds, he saw the older Templar had his shield above his head, spikes of the mace jammed against the edge. He had barely managed to block that one.  
  
"It's not a common field of study for obvious reasons." Solas continued, "Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remenants of a thousand-year-old-dream? I would not trade it for anything."  
  
His eyes wandered again to the grounds. The older Templar had fortified himself again. He would not budge, no matter how many times the younger struck. "I will stay then. At least until the breach has been closed."  
  
"Was that in doubt?"  
  
His head snapped back to face her, lips pursed. "I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."  
  
"You came her to help, Solas. I won't let them use that against you."  
  
He scoffed, "How would you stop them?"  
  
"However I have to."  
  
Solas raised his eyebrows, expression softening every so slightly at the declaration. On the training grounds, the young recruit shoulder checked the older Templar, and managed to knock him down, shield still raised even as he toppled over.  
  
"Thank you." Solas voiced, surprising himself when the breath he didn't know he'd been holding was released with the words, "But for now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the breach."  
  
He opened his book again and took a seat at the bottom of the stairs. No sooner had he found his place on the page than did she speak again.  
  
"You shoelaces are untied." She said.  
  
He sighed, "Yes. They are."  
  
She giggled, "It's fine. I can't stand wearing shoes, either."  
  
Slowly, he drew his face away from the book to stare at her.  
  
"They make your feet itch, don't they?" She continued, "And when they're all laced up, it's like they're suffocating."  
  
Another crash and a shout drew his eyes back to the training grounds. They were at it again, but it seemed the recruit had adapted a new technique. He swept his sparing partner's feet out from under him and knocked him onto his back, then pinned him down with his shield arm spread out.  
  
"Yes. I've never met an elf who didn't have sensitive feet." He replied.  
  
Before he could process what she was doing, she was kneeling in front of him and fiddled with the shoelaces. Clutching the book in one hand, he watched her pull out the laces from each eyelet, one by one. "There's a way you can lace them so that they aren't as tight. The ones our scouts wore didn't have soles, so it will probably still feel restrictive, but ..."  
  
Solas could feel the tips of his ears burning. She alternated vertical laces with diagonal ones until she reached the top, then tied either end into a neat little bow. "It's a little better, isn't it?" She asked, looking up with a hopeful smile.  
  
"Yes." He answered, stiff as a bowstring, "Thank you."  
  
Her smile widened ever so slightly. He found himself fixated on the dimples dotting the edges of her mouth before she leaned down and set to work on the other boot. "I'd like to get to know you better, Solas." She said as she pulled out the laces.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're an apostate, yet you risked your freedom to help the Inquisition."  
  
"Not the wisest course of action when framed that way."  
  
She giggled again, light and airy, like powdered snow, "I appreciate the work you're doing, Solas, I just wanted to know more about you."  
His ears drooped a little, eyes dragged to the ground by guilt. Her own eyes met his, though she still worked on lacing his shoe, nimble fingers working from memory. "I am sorry. With so much fear in the air ..." He trailed off, words escaping him, "What would you know of me?"  
  
She tied off the laces into another bow and she moved to sit beside him on the stairs. Her hands rested on either side of her, lightly brushing the edge of his own hand. Instincually, he pulled it away, though he realized then that his knuckles were white where they were still gripping his book. He set it down between them, and answered her questions as they came.  
  
She was full of questions.  
  
By the time the sun was setting and the soldiers were hanging up their weapons and shields, she was still asking questions. Every answer he gave seemed to generate two more questions from her, and he was surprised to find he didn't mind answering any of them. The only thing that seemed to stop her was a light shiver she released while he was telling one of his stories. He shook his head, watching her draw her arms against herself, her breath fogging in the air.  
  
"Perhaps you should worry about your own shoes in the future." He mused, "You'll catch frostbite before long."  
  
She scoffed, "It hasn't happened yet."  
  
"Still, it would be a shame for it to happen now, even if it would be the first time."  
  
"Is that a hint of concern I hear, Solas?" She said, winking.  
  
"You are, for the time being, our only hope of closing the breach. You can't very well do that if you cannot walk. So, yes, I am concerned for your ... well-being."  
She nudged him with an elbow, "Sweet talker."  
  
She breathed deep, suppressing a yawn, and pushed herself into a standing position. After having abandoned it for hours, Solas finally picked his book back up and thumbed through the pages, though he was sure he wouldn't be able to remember where he'd left off.  
  
"Goodnight, Solas. Will I see you tomorrow?"  
  
"Ma nuvenin. Dareth shiral, Lavellan."

x - X - x

A champagne flute two inches from his face.

The nobleman who was holding had his face turned towards the woman he was speaking to, silver mask robbing him of the periferal vision to see Solas even if he wanted to. Solas glanced over his shoulder. The now-wider-known 'Herald of Andraste' was bathed in moonlight from the arched window where she stood, speaking to their hostess. The self-proclaimed elegant Madame de Fer.

Briefly, Solas considered whether it would be worth it to point out who's company he'd arrived with.

Solas accepted the glass and set it down at the base of the stone lion he'd been leaning against. The nobleman continued talking.

Solas watched as the nobleman finally turned on a heel and left. His female companion hung behind. After a second, she used used the stone lion's paw to steady herself as she crouched and adjusted the heel of her shoe. Any attemps she made to be subtle in the action were quickly wasted as layers of her poofy dress fell over one another while she worked. Once it seemed that she had shimmied the heel back into place, she rose. Her mask was inlaid with silver, a carved pattern of vines and roses serving as both decoration and peep holes. It seemed to be one of the few masks here that was adept at hiding her facial expressions, and when she nodded at Solas' shoes, he was taken aback at the knowledge that she'd even noticed him.

Raising one eyebrow in suspicion, he looked at where she'd indicated. The laces of his left boot were dangling, aglets brushing the marble floor.

He nodded back to her - curt but polite - and even managed an miniscule smile as thanks. She immediately returned to the crowd as Solas knelt to tend to his laces.

A minute passed. Then two. Then he was quite certain that five had gone by. He ground his teeth and pulled the laces up again. How had she done it? Under, over, pull to either side. _I should have paid attention._ He thought, _I wasn't watching what she was doing. I was looking at ..._

"Need some help?"

A pair of soft leather boots appeared in front of him, their laces tied in that familiar alternating cross pattern. His craned his neck so his eyes would meet hers. Her face was shaded thanks to the chandelier behind her head, he could barely make out the dimpled smile on her face. He realized his cheeks felt very, very warm.

She knelt and he rose, crossing his arms. He focused very intently on the wall.

"When I was little, our Keeper taught me a rhyme, if it helps." She spoke as she worked, "Nug ears, nug ears, playing by a tree. Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me. Nug ears, nug ears, jumped in the hole, popped out the other side beautiful and bold!"

She pulled the hoops through with the last words. There it was. A neat little bow again. She looked up at him. "You weren't watching, were you?" She asked.

He was looking at her eyes.

His own eyes widened in response and he feigned a cough, covering his mouth as an excuse to look away.

"I'm not going to judge you for not knowing how to tie your shoes, Solas."

"I apologize for drifting off. Thank you for the help." He replied, his voice taut.

"Apology accepted, and you're welcome. I'll simply have to show you again once we're back at Haven." She pushed herself to her feet and moved to his side, leaning against the lion statue. She jumped a little in surprise, and produced an empty champagne flute from behind her back. Her brows furrowed.

"Don't ask." Solas said. 

x - X - x

In the days that followed the destruction of Haven, her visits only became more frequent. She would enter the study he'd set up for himself to find him pouring over a map or a chart, and before either of them knew what had happened, he was describing another moment he'd witnessed in the fade.

It wasn't long before he decided to show her, rather than simply tell her.

The sun warmed the cobblestone steps leading up to Haven. She walked along the lower step, balancing, arms spread wide on either side of her. A light breeze swept through the empty training grounds. The wind was the only sound. There wasn't even the sound of footsteps to announce Solas before he spoke.

"I hope I did not keep you waiting for too long."

She hopped off the steps. "You're barefoot."

He laughed, "You would be hard-pressed to find anyone who isn't where we're going."

He took her hand. Her smile brightened. The fade melted into swirls of color around them.

They walked, though she had no idea where they were going, if anywhere. The clusters and swirls of color around her threatened to make her sick, and she kept her focus on the hand she was holding.

They stepped into a castle.

It was Skyhold. She could tell by the archways and the placement of the windows, but none of the decor or the garden was familiar. The stone walls were fresh and polished, no chips, dents, or layers of dirt that refused to wash away. There were white silk draperies in the windows and a massive mural of a wolf along the back wall. And there were elves. Elves! They wore flowing robes and dresses in what she could only describe as spun silver, some of it dyed to brilliant hues of white and green. They went about their business, bare feet padding silently along the fur carpets.

Then, all at once, the memory faded.

"I'm afraid that's all there was to it."

She realized she had covered her mouth with one hand. She closed her slack-jawed mouth, regaining focus. "What was it?"

"A memory of a green recruit, momentarily overwhelmed as she entered Skyhold for the first time."

"I think I know how she felt." She laughed.

"I thought it might interest you. I apologize if it was overwhelming."

"No, not at all." She said. Stretching onto her toes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you for showing me."

"There was something else I had for you, but it isn't here."

He rested his hands on her hips. They stood there for a few moments, eyes resting on one another, until she could feel her vision of the world around her begin to fade. Her eyes fluttered open back in her quarters.

A pale arm was draped across her stomach and his cheek was resting on her shoulder. On her opposite side, a tiny bouquet of roses was resting on the nightstand, budled up by a little red ribbon tied into a perfect bow.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan." He said as he leaned up to kiss her cheek.

"Ar lath ma, Solas."


End file.
